In the River Valley
by StarSpray
Summary: "Ah!" The strange man peered more closely at them. "Elves coming east!" He seemed to find the idea funny, and sat down with them on the grass to laugh. "And what are your names, little elf children?"


_This story directly follows Name Every Star._

* * *

By the time spring came, Nellas and Eluréd and Elurín had wandered quite far from the Ered Luin. They found themselves in a small river valley, with willow trees lining the banks. Ents had passed through before them, and some lingered still. They came upon one gnarled old Ent standing in the water where it formed a small calm pool before flowing on, humming to himself quite happily, despite the pieces of ice still clinging to the river edges.

Nellas found a hollow among some tall, thick trees that was sheltered from wind and rain, and there they made camp. "I think we should be safe enough here," she said. "The trees have told me nothing of any danger, and I don't think that old Ent would rest so easy if there were orcs about!"

"This seems like a good place to stay a while," Elurín ventured. "It will be pretty when it gets warmer, and the leaves come out."

"I think so too," Nellas said, smiling at him. "Do the two of you know how to fish?" She pulled fishing lines out of her pack, and when they assured her that they did know how to use them, she left them by the riverbank while she went in search of try wood for a fire, and to see about building some sort of shelter, since they were going to stay there longer than a night or two.

Eluréd sat on the blanket they'd put down in the mud and contemplated the river flowing lazily by them. "Do you think it has a name?" he asked Elurín, who shrugged. "Maybe that Ent we saw this morning knows it."

"I don't think he's going to be very talkative for a long while," Elurín said. "Nellas says they are very slow—like trees. And maybe he's been traveling, too, from Beleriand."

They caught three very small fish after an hour or so, using bits of dried meat from their packs as bait. These smaller fish proved to be much better bait, and by the time Nellas returned with wood for the fire they had three nice-sized trout to present to her. They were not as big as they would grow later in the year, but it was enough for lunch. Elurín declared them the best fish he had ever tasted, which made Nellas laugh.

"Just wait until I can cook them properly, with more than my last bit of salt," she said. "Now!" She wiped her hands on her knees and rose. "We must think of shelter. I haven't found a tree suitable for a talan like my old one, but we can make a little lean-to here in this hollow that will be cozy enough. I'll teach you how."

It was evening by the time they finished it. Nellas even taught them how living plants could be coaxed gently into weaving themselves into the shelter. It meant they had to be a little careful inside, because the newly-woken brush she wove into the wall were brambles, which would be good for raspberries later in the year, but made for a great deal of discomfort if you leaned against them suddenly. And when the lean-to was done, Nellas sat with them by the fire that crackled cheerfully, and told them tales of Doriath of old, of festivals and hunting parties, and other things to make them laugh.

The next morning they woke to singing. There was more than one voice, and they were strange—not Elven, but not Mannish either. Eluréd lay very still, listening to them. One was full of laughter, the song something to skip or dance or leap to. The other wove itself around the laughter, also wordless but full of life, like new leaves and roots digging own deep and branches reaching skyward.

"Who is that?" Elurín whispered as the voices faded into the distance.

"I don't know." Nellas sat up. "Spirits of the forest, perhaps, or of the river." She pulled her cloak about her and crawled out of the lean-to. They ate some dried fruit and some hard cheese they'd gotten from traders a few weeks before for breakfast. Nellas disappeared after that, leaving the boys to gather more firewood—careful to take only fallen or dead wood. Mist hovered over the river and drifted through the trees; in the far distance they could still hear the singing, and closer at hand they could now hear an Ent's voice, slow and sonorous.

Eluréd looked at Elurín, who grinned. They were far from Beleriand, and though Nellas had warned them that there were dangers here, too, it didn't feel that way. And surely they would not get lost if they stayed close to the river! They made sure the fire was only smoldering and would not spread before joining hands and darting down the path along the water. The mist swirled around them, glowing golden now as the sun began to rise over the treetops.

They found the singing Ent beside a still pool, ringed with breaking ice. He was singing to the trees on the river bank; he looked rather like a willow himself, with long fronts like hair swinging gently as he swayed. Eluréd and Elurín stood quietly, listening, until the sun had burned the mist away, and it became clear that the Ent was not going to stop his singing any time soon, and Nellas dropped out of the trees just up the path. "There you are!" she exclaimed. "I've been looking everywhere for you!" She took their hands and tugged them away from the Ent. "You mustn't wander off like that!"

"We wanted to see the Ent," Eluréd said. "He's singing to the willows—"

"I know, Eluréd." Nellas stopped and crouched in front of them. A few curls had come loose of their bonds and fell across her forehead. She looked very serious. "But you must understand that the world is a very big place, and there are many dangerous things in it. I'm not only speaking of orcs or other servants of the Enemy. There are dark things that serve no one but themselves. _And_ there are wild animals, and unexpected holes or cliffs or bogs."

"We're sorry," Elurín said, he and Eluréd both hanging their heads.

"I know. Promise me you won't run off by yourselves again?"

"We promise," Elurín and Eluréd said together.

Nellas smiled, and pushed the curls out of her face, though they only bounced back again. "Good. Now come back to camp. I have a surprise for you!"

The surprise turned out to be two tree boughs, each only a little shorter than Eluréd and Elurín. Nellas tossed some twigs onto the coals to get their campfire blazing cheerfully again, and once they were seated around it she took one of the boughs into her lap. "Do you know what this is?" she asked, holding it up. The boys shook their heads. "I suppose it's difficult to tell, since there are few leaves out yet. These are from a yew tree, and I am going to make them into bows for the two of you."

Elurín's face lit up; Eluréd leaned forward. "Really?" he said. Nellas nodded. "Oh, thank you, Nellas!"

She laughed. "You're welcome! You'll need to learn to shoot and to hunt, and later today I'll show you how to set snares—we'll soon tire of fish, I'm sure."

They had been five days in the river valley before they discovered who the mysterious singers were. Nellas had gone hunting, this time making sure to extract a promise from Eluréd and Elurín that they would go no farther from camp than their fishing spot, and Eluréd and Elurín were lying in the grass with a fishing pole stuck into the ground, the lure trailing in the water. They were looking for shapes in the clouds when they heard someone humming, and sitting up, they saw the figure of a man skipping down the path. He was stout and bearded, though too tall to be a dwarf. His clothes were all different shades of green, even his boots, so as he moved he looked like dappled sunlight dancing on summer leaves.

"Ho, ho, well met, little ones!" he exclaimed, stopping in front of them and leaning down to peer into their faces. His own face was creased with hundreds of fine wrinkles with his smile; his beard was brown and thick, and his eyes were very, very blue. "And where did you come from? East or west, did your little feet bring you?"

Eluréd looked at Elurín, who boldly answered, "We came east, from Beleriand," he said.

"Ah!" The strange man peered more closely at them. "Elves coming east!" He seemed to find the idea funny, and sat down with them on the grass to laugh. "And what are your names, little elf children?"

Elurín looked at Eluréd again, who shrugged. He did not think there was danger in this strange person. He looked more like a Man than an Elf, but there was something else about him—something very old, and strange and joyful. "I am Eluréd," he said to the strange man, "and my brother is Elurín."

The man laughed again, though Eluréd wasn't sure why their names would be funny. "Remembering Elu, I see!" he said. "You come from Doriath! And where is your guardian, the pretty elf maid with curls in her hair?"

"Nellas went hunting," Elurín said. "But who are you? Is this your land?"

"My land? No! It's its own land, as the trees are their own, and the beasts, and yourselves. I am Eldest."

"Is that your name?" Elurín asked.

"It's what I am," said Eldest cheerfully.

He spent the afternoon with them, singing and telling stories—and laughing, always laughing. It was as though every bit of him was infused with an irrepressible joy. The remnants of caution fell away, and Eluréd decided that he liked Eldest immensely. His stories traveled up and down the river, and many of them featured a lady he called Goldberry, or River-daughter, who laughed at and teased him, and pulled him into the water, and who sat in her lily pool on hot summer afternoons to comb her long golden hair. Eluréd and Elurín wanted to meet this Goldberry, but they had promised Nellas not to wander.

Finally, Nellas returned, empty handed and soaking wet and scowling. "Nellas!" Elurín exclaimed, "What happened?"

"She's met fair Lady Goldberry!" Eldest laughed, springing to his feet. "Well met, pretty maid! Come sit in the sun and dry yourself!"

And just like that, Nellas was dry. She blinked at Eldest in surprise, before looking down at herself. "Thank you!" she said. "But who are you?"

"He is Eldest," Eluréd said. "He's been telling us stories. Did you really meet the River-daughter?"

"I don't know about that. But something tripped me up into a pool." Nellas sat on the grass between Eluréd and Elurín. "I hope you've had more luck than me."

"Not yet," Elurín said.

Without explanation or farewell, Eldest skipped off up the path—and it was only then that Eluréd realized that the path must have been made by him. There was no one else to make paths—not well-trodden ones, anyway. The trees, Nellas suspected, sometimes moved, but they had not been there long enough for Eluréd to see for himself. He tugged up the fishing string and tossed it back in, but the fish simply weren't biting. It would be travel rations for supper, it seemed.

But as they returned back to their camp, and Nellas knelt to get the fire going again, Eldest came back. "Hey, come now, my little friends, come sup withme! My table is laden with bread and cream and honey, and there are soft beds awaiting you!"

Nellas sat back on her heels, frowning. "But I've gone all over this river valley and haven't seen any tables," she said, "let alone baking ovens or cows for cream!" But Eldest only laughed, of course, and they couldn't say no, so they picked up their things and scattered the ashes of the campfire, and followed him as he danced up the path. The river wound through the wood and up to an open grassy hill at the forest's edge, where it stopped quite suddenly and orderly. The path was made now of small white stones that crunched beneath their feet, and a cow grazed on the hill, lowing contentedly when Eldest sang out a greeting. And atop the hill there was, indeed, a house.

"Was this really not here before, Nellas?" Elurín asked as they gazed up at it. They could hear the river flowing down a steeper slope nearby, down from higher lands with more fir trees than willow.

"Well," Nellas admitted, "I didn't come this far upstream. I stayed in the lower forest. One of the travelers we met last week said there are barrows on the downs just to the east, and most people avoid them, so I thought it best to do the same until I had explored the land properly—and that will take quite some time."

"Eldest probably knows about them," Eluréd said.

"What's a barrow?" Elurín asked.

"A grave," Nellas said. "Men make them, sometimes."

The sun sank down behind trees to the west, the sky turning purple with twilight as the stars came out, one by one. To the east stood the dark shoulders of the hills; behind them the breeze whispered through the trees as they murmured among themselves. But in front of them the door of the cozy little house stood open and golden light spilled out, and Eldest could be heard inside singing and laughing. They hurried up the path to join him.


End file.
